A surge of anger blossomed in her stomach. She would fashion a new crown and take the feathers from this phoenix’s corpse if she wanted. She was Avalkyra Ashfire. She was a queen. None would shine brighter or burn hotter than her.
Avalkyra glowered at the creature as it landed before her, anger still bubbling in her stomach and clawing its way up her throat.
Though the phoenix was impressive in both size and age, she did not seem… stable. There was something broken and fractured in her eyes, in her twitching, erratic movements. She kept tilting her head or darting her gaze this way or that… as if looking for something, and Avalkyra was not it.
Unlike most phoenixes, who emanated light and warmth and sparking energy, this creature felt dark and cold and wary.
“Who are you?” Avalkyra asked. Minutes passed, and when the silence continued to stretch on, Avalkyra pushed out with her magic. Tell me who you are! she demanded, but the phoenix’s mind rebelled against her touch. She had impressive strength, and yet there were also gaps along the barriers of her mind… cracks and fissures. These weren’t born from ineptitude or inexperience. No, the weakness in this phoenix’s defenses came from trauma.
Centuries of trauma.
And deep within Avalkyra came the knowledge that while the body might endure or be resurrected anew, the mind did not survive so many lives unscathed.
“What do you want?” she asked instead, though she wasn’t sure why. Why should she care what this old bag of bones wanted? “I am your queen, phoenix, and here in my domain you will answer me.”
Those words got the firebird’s attention. Her gaze, which had been wandering off to the side, snapped back onto Avalkyra with sharpened focus.
Ashfire, she said. Not a question.
“Yes,” Avalkyra said faintly. The word had boomed inside her mind, loud, clear, and echoing, like a massive bronze bell.
More ash than fire, the phoenix said, fixing her with a single, unblinking stare, before shifting her wings and looking around once more.
Avalkyra stared. She’d never heard a phoenix speak like that, playing with words and meanings like a human would. And yet there was something otherworldly about this creature’s voice too. It was cold—detached in a way that felt like hatred, and Avalkyra knew hatred.
Then the phoenix added, almost as an afterthought, It is no wonder that you fail.
Was she…? Had the phoenix seen Avalkyra’s attempt at hatching an egg? Fury pulsed through her veins. She lashed out, a searing pulse of shadow magic that met against the phoenix’s fractured walls and broke through.
The phoenix reared back, shaking her head and screeching loudly.
Avalkyra reveled in the sound.
“I am ash and fire, and Nefyra’s blood runs in my veins, phoenix. Remember to whom you speak.”
There was silence for a time, and the phoenix seemed almost… stunned.
Nefyra, she said carefully, as if relearning the word. She shook her head again slowly, then more violently, before taking to the sky with a sudden screech and the flap of angry wings.
Avalkyra watched her go, wondering how many more broken things she’d find in Aura and sickened to realize that she was one of them.
A part of her had expected to find dozens of phoenixes in the ruins, living here in retreat from the world. But if there were others, they remained hidden.
Like cowards.
Like her.
What was she doing up here anyway? There was no luck to be found, no magical cure to her inability to hatch an egg and claim a bondmate. Instead there was this decrepit old phoenix here to taunt her. To show Avalkyra what she could never have again.
She thought back to the cold ashes of Xephyra’s resurrection pyre, when Avalkyra had managed to use her connection to Veronyka to exploit the bond between the girl and her phoenix.
Avalkyra had found a way to control Xephyra without a bond of her own; even with her animal magic failing, she had done it.
Why not again?
Of course, that had been different. She’d utilized Veronyka’s bond to Xephyra and her own bond to Veronyka, which connected them all in unexpected ways. As far as Avalkyra could tell, the creature she’d just met had no Rider, and even if she did, Avalkyra would not be bonded to them.
But there were other ways to control… ways that involved shadow magic. Shadow magic was typically the realm of human minds, but she’d broken through the phoenix’s mental barrier just now, hadn’t she? And she’d done that not with animal magic, but with shadow.
While the magic of the living was the realm of light and life and bonds, the magic of the shadows created a different kind of link. A bind. It was one way, a claiming rather than a union. And while it cost the binder less than a bond—they didn’t have to give access to their own mind in return—the results were similar enough for Avalkyra’s purposes.
She stared after the phoenix, still visible in the distance. A wavering speck, the creature silhouetted against the stars—a flicker of potential and possibility.
“Come back,” Avalkyra said. The words were quiet, and though there was no immediate response—and the phoenix surely could not hear her at this distance—Avalkyra was certain that she would return. Their paths would cross again, and Avalkyra would make it count.
Calm certainty settled over her.
What had she done all her life when the world refused to give her what she needed? What she deserved?
She had taken it.
Maybe her plans weren’t so unattainable after all: first a phoenix, then Veronyka… then, the empire.
Perhaps it was time for Veronyka to know the truth after all.
Maybe with the knowledge of who she was, Veronyka would finally accept her place at Avalkyra’s side. Then she’d leave those so-called Phoenix Riders—leave the Eyrie and her protections—and together they’d finish what Avalkyra and Pheronia had started a lifetime ago.
She would need proof, though…. It had taken her signet ring and a carefully chosen memory to validate her own truth to Veronyka, and so Avalkyra would need more than just words. There had been too many years and too many lies between them for Veronyka to trust anything she said.
Yes, Avalkyra would need proof.
And she knew exactly where to get it.
Unwanted, they called her. Ordinary.
Powerless. And she believed them, believed
the lies they told her about herself.
- CHAPTER 3 - SEV
SEV SAT ALONE IN the small chamber. In truth, it wasn’t small at all—it was actually a series of rooms with a bedchamber, a sitting room, and a private washroom—but everyone called it the small chamber, since it was the smallest of half a dozen long-term-care rooms in the infirmary wing of the palatial estate of Lord Rolan, governor of Ferro.
Sev shook his head, trying to understand how he’d gotten here.
When he’d left the Phoenix Riders, his confidence that he could do what he’d promised faltered with every step. He was willingly returning to the empire, to his position as a soldier, when he’d only just gotten free of them. It was hard to believe he’d volunteered for this.
As hard as it was to believe he’d gotten involved with Trix, the Feather-Crowned Queen’s spymaster, and her ridiculous rebellion. The thought brought a rueful smile to Sev’s face. It had been the best decision of his life, and his footsteps had lightened somewhat after that.